


All the Letters, All the Words (Remind Me of You)

by sunshinetina



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3129122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinetina/pseuds/sunshinetina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-six. All it takes is twenty-six letters – breathless, soulless, lifeless – hanging out there and lingering in the air without any sense. Until something or, rather, someone makes them different. Until this someone gives them some breath, some soul, some life, some sense and, all of a sudden, the twenty-six letters become twenty-six memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Letters, All the Words (Remind Me of You)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having this idea in my mind for some time now and just now gathered the courage to write it down. Please, comment - I'll most highly appreciate it! *blushes*
> 
> P.S. The meanings of the German words are in italic and underlined in their corresponding little chapters. :)

Twenty-six. All it takes is twenty-six letters – breathless, soulless, lifeless – hanging out there and lingering in the air without any sense. Until something or, rather, _someone_ makes them different. Until this someone gives them some breath, some soul, some life, some _sense_ and, all of a sudden, the twenty-six letters become twenty-six memories.

 

‘German is such a harsh language,’ Marco hears from an old man passing nearby. Marco stops talking to Marcel for a second, ‘Just listen to them. They seem so angry at the world. All the time.’

Marco smirks and nods as Robin winks at him. _It’s true, though_ , he thinks, _it’s not like it’s the first time I hear that._ To be quite honest, he has never been amongst the brightest students. Ever since Grundschule, he had his discipline problems, which mixed with his comprehension and, therefore, with his grades. He was often called up in front of the class, was sighed helplessly at, and, sometimes, even gave up on. Let’s face the truth: Marco was definitely not a fan of studying and he was even more definitely not a fan of languages and literature. And most definitely, he was absolutely not fond of his German teachers. To be honest, he just accepted his native language and that was it: nothing more, nothing special.

 

Then he moved to Dortmund. The year was 2012 and he was – what? – 22 year-old then, and-... Does it matter, actually? Then he met _Mario_.

 

‘I am telling you, it is such an unpleasant language to listen to,’ continues the old man and Marco drifts away in some state of daydreaming, refusing to walk with Marcel and Robin and heading back, towards the yacht. He groans while letting his half-naked body rest on the lounge, and closes his eyes.

 

 _German is beautiful_ , Marco thinks and bites his lips, flush spreading through his face, _German is so beautiful when Mario speaks it. German is so beautiful because it is the only language in which I can fully describe Mario. Because I can associate it with him._

And just like that, the twenty-six letters of the German alphabet come to life. With every single memory, with every single moment shared between Mario and Marco.

 

 

 **_A_ ** _temlos_

The first time he sees Mario, he can’t help but smirk. Mario is tiny and chubby at the same time, huge grin spreading through his face when he succeeds striking the perfect goal at training. His laugh echoes in the changing room and it doesn’t take long before it starts echoing so loud inside Marco’s head, Marco is unable to fall asleep for hours.

 

It takes him a year and the sleep still doesn’t arrive at time when he lays late at night, thinking about everything Mario said or did to him. Then Mario calls (it’s past midnight, but who cares?) and Marco maybe responds a bit too quickly but he hears Mario laugh and whisper _Marco_ in his ear and-...

 

And Marco is _breathless_. He can’t think properly, he just grins from one ear to the other, harshly bites his lips, and... simply laughs along. He can’t do much more.

 

 

 **_B_ ** _ild_

‘You are a moron, Marco Reus!’ his sister rolls her eyes at him and shrugs at his pathetic smile, ‘You’ve been staring at your phone for centuries. Chatting with Mario again?’

 

Marco shakes his head, ‘No, it’s Lewy. Took some photos at yesterday’s party. Look!’

 

Marco literally shoves his phone under his sister’s nose and swipes his finger over it. _Pictures_. Of him. Of him and _Mario_ , mostly. Actually, _all_ of them are pictures of him and Mario. She chuckles.

 

‘You look nice,’ she taps on the phone, right on his hair. He sighs in response.

 

‘We do, I know,’ he answers simple as that and she shakes her head because she never meant the _you_ as a plural, but he can never take it as a singular now.

 

 

 **_C_ ** _hemie_

Marco looks at Mario and catches his brown eyes sparkling. They both wink at each other and run and squat and jump high. The bump of their bodies against each other causes an electricity to spread through Marco’s body and as soon as he lands, he can’t help but tuck Mario’s head under his chin and kiss his hair absentmindedly. Mario envelopes Marco’s waist with his hands.

 

Marco doesn’t know a lot about _chemistry_ but he can’t find another word to describe the dizziness in his head and the ripping of his heart off his chest when Mario looks up at him and smiles, his chubby cheeks covered in bright red.

 

 

 **_D_ ** _unkelheit_

Marco can hear a shuffle and immediately snaps his eyes open. Looks at the direction of the noise and sees Mario tossing his bedsheets and puffing.

 

‘Mario?’

 

‘Oh, thank God you’re awake,’ Mario turns around and looks straight at Marco. His lower lip trembles and Marco widens his eyes.

 

‘What is it, Sunny? Are you ok?’

 

‘I think I might be getting sick,’ Mario whispers and tucks his tiny body in the fluffy sheets even more, ‘It’s so _dark_ and _cold_ here and I-...’

 

He sneezes loudly, then sniffs and looks sadly at the smiling Marco.

 

‘Come here,’ Marco tosses his sheets away and pats his bed. Mario shakes his head, ‘Come on, Sunny. The bed is too big for me anyway. Come.’

 

Mario lets out a shaky breath and stands up. Shivers when the cold air hits him, then quickly paces towards Marco’s bed and drops himself down. Snuggles as close to Marco as he can.

 

‘Is it better now?’ Mario just nods, his unequal breath making the hair on Marco’s skin pathetically stand up, ‘I didn’t know you are so afraid of _darkness_.’

 

‘Marco!’ Mario grumbles and Marco chuckles, slightly kissing Mario’s burning temple. (He has a fever, obviously, and Marco might catch it too but he just doesn’t care.) ‘Sleep now.’

 

 

 **_E_ ** _rinnerung_

Marco remembers the first days after Mario left for Munich. He remembers the emptiness, remembers the nerve-wrecking sight of the changing room without Mario in it, remembers his annoyance at everything and everyone just because they were not Mario. Remembers Mario calling him late at night and him just staring at his phone, unable even to cut the call off.

 

Months pass before Marco realising that he is not angry at Mario at all (he can’t be) and that he no longer remembers that cold morning when Mario’s brown eyes blinked several times at him, desperately trying to suppress the tears, while whispering him goodbye.

 

‘People tend to forget the bad things about something or someone they love,’ Pierre says one day, out of nowhere, and it makes Marco think, ‘They forget the bad and the only _memory_ they have is the brightest one – of why they fell in love with them.’

 

And God knows, Marco remembers that clearly.

 

 

 **_F_ ** _reude_

‘You look happy,’ Mario states and chuckles slightly. Marco doesn’t hesitate for a second when he crosses the room and wraps his hands around Mario’s neck and presses their foreheads against each other. Mario’s eyelashes almost touch Marco’s.

 

‘I _am_ ,’ it comes out as a whisper, moistening Mario’s lips, ‘It takes so little to make me happy. Just you here.’

 

Mario blushes and shrugs, giggling and sweating nervously under Marco’s palms. Marco smirks.

 

‘You are my _happiness_ , do you know that?’

 

Mario turns crimson red, ‘Oh, Marco, you are such a sap...’ They both giggle. Mario doesn’t say back that Marco is his personal happiness. They both know it.

 

 

 **_G_ ** _lauben_

Marco crinkles his nose and lets out a soft _ouch_ before collapsing on the floor once again. Mario clicks his tongue and sits next to him, with his legs crossed.

 

‘Is this Marco Reus giving up?’

 

‘It hurts so fucking much, I can’t do it,’ Marco shakes his head, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, ‘Please, Sunny, let us stop this nonsense and go somewhere else. Eat a pretzel or two, hm?’

 

‘You won’t buy me with pretzels this time, Reus,’ Mario shakes his head and Marco sighs, ‘You need to exercise and to get better and then to shine like the star you are.’

 

‘For what I know, the star here is only one. _The golden boy from Memmingen_ ,’ Mario rolls his eyes and pats Marco’s chest.

 

‘Come on. Up!’

 

‘It hurts,’ Marco whines while Mario helps him stand up with shining eyes.

 

‘It does. But I _believe_ in you. The way you believed in me in Brazil,’ they smile at each other. (Ok, maybe Marco is blushing a bit too much.)

 

 

 **_H_ ** _erz_

It flips. Marco’s _heart_ flips, skips a beat, goes silent (oh God, is he dead now?), then spontaneously speeds up... Mario closes his eyes and leans into Marco’s touch, breathing loudly and shaking. Marco’s hands wrap around Mario’s neck and head, his fingers trail through his sweaty hair. Mario gasps and keeps his eyes shut, then bites his lips when one of Marco’s hands travels down his chest. Marco feels it vibrating under his palm and bumping and-... Mario half-opens his eyes and looks at Marco through his eyelashes.

 

‘I think it’s my _heart_ ,’ Mario whispers before their teammates run at them and pat his head in celebration of his goal, ‘Marco, it’s beating too fast, I don’t know what’s going on.’

 

‘I know. It’s the emotions of the game,’ Marco whispers in response before the rest of the team hugs them. (They both know it’s not the game.)

 

 

 **_I_ ** _mmer_

‘Come on, Mario, we are going to be late!’ Marco shouts while arranging his hair and frowning at the mirror. Hears no sound, ‘Mario!’

 

Mario drags himself and pouts at Marco.

 

‘You aren’t even dressed!’ Marco waves with his hands and sighs loudly, ‘Come on!’

 

‘I don’t wanna go.’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Let’s stay here, Marco, please,’ Mario pouts even more and makes those puppy eyes that make Marco re-evaluate his life choices, ‘You have tons of food in the fridge, you have movies, you have games... Why should we go to that party? We can make our own one here.’

 

‘Mario...’

 

Mario looks at his toes and bites his lips, ‘I just...’

 

‘But we promised Mats we’d go...’

 

‘I know,’ Mario shrugs, ‘But there’ll be so many people there and I-... I just want to be with _you_.’

 

Marco half-crooks a smile, ‘Do you?’

 

Mario nods and looks at Marco, who is now taking his coat off. Mario’s face instantaneously brightens up, ‘I _always_ do.’

 

 

 **_J_ ** _etzt_

‘I can see it clearly, though,’ Mats says as-a-matter-of-factly.

 

‘Hm?’

 

‘You like him.’

 

‘Who?’

 

‘Mario.’

 

‘Of course I do,’ Marco frowns, ‘He is my best friend and-...’ Mats quirks an eyebrow, ‘Alright, you _two_ are my best friends and I love both of you.’

 

‘You love me?’

 

‘Yep,’ Marco nods confidently.

 

‘The same way you love him?’

 

Silence. Marco gulps and bites the inside of his cheek. Looks at Mats’s smug face, who is know shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

 

‘Maybe you should talk to him.’

 

‘Mats, this is not-...’

 

‘ _Now_!’

 

Marco never does, though.

 

 

 **_K_ ** _opfschmerzen_

Marco groans and buries his head in the pillow. Hears a not-so-distant chuckle.

 

‘What time is it?’

 

‘Noon. _Past_ noon.’

 

‘Fuck, my head hurts.’

 

‘I told you you’d have a terrible _headache_ if you drink so much,’ Mario sighs and stares at the bright screen of his phone. Marco turns his head and looks at Mario.

 

‘Don’t tell me you took pictures of me.’

 

‘Nah,’ Mario giggles, ‘Robert did.’

 

‘Fuck it.’

 

‘Although, I think the fangirls would kill for several photos of Marco Reus in his boxers only, spread on his stomach in his bed,’ Mario blushes slightly and tries his best to focus on his phone. Marco smirks and lifts himself up, supported on his elbows.

 

‘Would they?’ Marco smirks and Mario nods, gulping, ‘Why don’t you take a photo or two, then? I want to make my fans happy.’

 

Mario shakes his head and finally looks at Marco with red face, ‘No. This image is private – just for _me_.’

 

 

 **_L_ ** _iebe_

Marco doesn’t particularly pay attention to the words but when it comes to the word _love_ , he gets anxious all of a sudden. He has been such since a child. Every time his mother was kissing him goodbye before sending him to school with the words _love you, Marco, take care_ , he was sweating nervously before replying _love you too, Mom_.

 

This is not the case with Mario, though. Marco can spend a lifetime telling Mario he loves him and he would never get tired of it. Neither would he get tired of Mario’s reaction to those three words. How his chubby face gets pink, how he bites his red lips, how he blinks several times with his mile-long lashes, revealing the sparkles in his chocolate brown eyes.

 

 _Love_ has so many different meanings and so many different feelings associated with it. _Loving Mario_ is something else, though. And it’s the only _love_ Marco is not afraid of.

 

 

 **_~~M~~ _ ** _~~agnet~~ _ _– ** ~~M~~** ~~agie~~ – **~~M~~** ~~ein~~ – **M** ario _

Everything becomes _Mario_. The cold pebbles of Dortmund’s streets, the yellow walls of Signal Iduna Park, the blossoming trees in the parks, the calm waters of Ruhr... Everything. Marco is like captured and everything around screams _Mario_.

 

He can’t help it but drag himself at Mario every time the shorter man calls him. He is weak when Mario bubbles his cheeks and pouts till Marco pinches them and a shining smile spreads across Mario’s face. He is unable not to touch Mario, absolutely incapable of not being around him, and totally against the idea of Mario being away. Even if one is in Dortmund and the other is in Munich. It feels like Mario is a _magnet_ and it doesn’t matter how far he goes, he drags Marco with himself.

 

And it takes just a second when Mario sends him a snapchat with an absolutely dumb face from Bayern’s training grounds, telling him Pep took his phone away because they were chatting way too much, but he somehow managed to take it back. And Marco laughs at Mario’s whispering voice, which seems like a spell to him, like some kind of _magic_ which Marco is still unable to comprehend. (And he refuses to.)

 

‘I am all yours tonight,’ is the first thing Marco half-chuckles in Mario’s ear when calling him at 1 a.m., and Mario melts in a smile, ‘Are you _mine_?’

 

‘I am always yours, Marco,’ whispers Mario and bites his lips. (They both know this isn’t quite true but are used to pretend to be oblivious.)

 

 

 **_N_ ** _acht_

The days are football. And Marco is used to that, even after all the injuries and all the pain. He is training, he is playing, he is exhausting himself. The routine he is prepared for and he is getting paid for.

 

The _nights_ are _Mario_. Marco is slowly getting used to that too, especially after Mario left. He glues himself to the phone, to the laptop, to whatever device connecting him to Mario. The nights are sleepless and in the next morning Mario blames him for the dark circles under his eyes.

 

‘You’re beautiful even with heavy bags under your eyes, Sunny,’ Marco giggles and Mario rolls his eyes. (He doesn’t know Marco always finds him beautiful, no matter what. Well, maybe he does.)

 

 

 **_O_ ** _bwohl_

‘What are you thinking of?’ the question makes Marco slightly jump and stare at his father.

 

‘Nah, nothing. I am glad Nico is here, I missed my nephew.’

 

‘This isn’t about Nico,’ his father shrugs and pauses, ‘You know, Marco, Munich is not that far away.’

 

‘What does Munich have to do with this?’ Marco tries to act as nonchalant as possible. His father shakes his head, ‘ _Despite_ him leaving Borussia, he didn’t leave _you_. You know that, right? You wouldn’t charge your phone the entire day if it wasn’t like that. I know who you talk to at night, our room is next to yours.’

 

Marco blushes and bites his lips. Checks the first flight to Munich he can get tickets for.

 

 

 **_P_ ** _assen_

Mario grins and hands Marco the newspaper, leaning back.

 

_The brilliant duo. The magical pair. The super tandem._

Marco chuckles and folds the newspaper, ‘I look so good on those photos, though.’

 

‘That’s because you are with me.’

 

‘True. I look the best when I am with you,’ they stare at each other before smiling, ‘Everyone thinks we _suit_ each other on the pitch.’

 

‘What about _off_ the pitch?’

 

Marco smirks and licks his lips, ‘I don’t know. What about off the pitch?’

 

Mario chuckles and shrugs, ‘Thank God the paparazzi are not everywhere.’

 

 

 **_Q_ ** _ual_

It hurts. It hurts when Mario is so close, sleeping (maybe even slightly snoring) with his hands tucked under his face, puffing out his cheeks. It hurts when Marco carefully wraps him up in the sheets and then hesitates whether to touch him and... just gives in. His hands travel all over Mario’s calm face, his fingers entangle with the thick brown hair, and then Mario moves and mumbles something in his sleep and purrs. Marco smirks and leans closer, his breath tickling Mario, who crinkles his nose. Marco kisses that snub nose.

 

‘Marco?’ Mario involuntarily presses himself closer to Marco.

 

‘Yes, Sunny?’

 

‘Do it again,’ Marco smiles at Mario’s whisper and kisses his nose again and again and again until Mario starts snoring softly. And it is a _torment_ to Marco – Mario being so close to him now and being gone tomorrow, when Marco wakes up.

 

 

 **_R_ ** _egen_

Marco squeals and Mario turns around with wide eyes, a bit frightened. Next thing he knows is Marco jumping on his back and suffocating him while hugging him tight. Mario gathers all his breath and grins, arranging Marco better on his back and giving him a piggy ride under the _rain_.

 

‘Too much,’ Mats and Kuba state in sync with quirked eyebrows and rolling eyes, while watching Mario doing a slow lap around the pitch, with Marco on his back.

 

Eventually, Marco slips and falls down in the mud and laughs loudly before kicking Mario to fall down on top of him.

 

‘Too much, indeed,’ Lewandowski sighs and mentally slaps himself as the team leaves the training pitch due to the heavy rain.

 

Klopp shouts also at both of them to get inside but they don’t hear him. The only thing Marco hears is Mario’s laugh in his ear. The only thing Mario cares about are Marco’s green eyes and his eyelashes, heavy with sparkling raindrops.

 

 

 **_S_ ** _onne_

Marco looks at Mario and his train of thought gets lost somewhere. Mario is talking vividly, gesticulating, biting his lips, shrugging, sighing, laughing. Marco is staring.

 

‘Sunshine,’ Marco whispers to himself and smirks at the sudden revelation. Mario looks at him and melts in a shining smile as their eyes meet.

 

‘Hm?’

 

‘You’re everyone’s brightness. Golden boy,’ Marco shrugs, feeling the blush creeping through his cheekbones, ‘You are my _sun_ , Mario.’

 

Mario licks his lips and looks at his toes, even his ears going red. Marco chuckles at the sight and his knuckles brush Mario’s cheeks.

 

‘Sunny,’ Mario’s shy eyes stare at Marco’s smiling ones, ‘You are _my_ _Sunny_.’

 

 

 **_T_ ** _raum_

Marco would never understand the instant connection he had with Mario the day the two of them first met. Most of their friends and relatives, the teammates, the coaches say that they were doing magic on the pitch. Marco and Mario knew it wasn’t just there.

 

‘You are my best friend, Marco. You know that, right?’ Mario suddenly pauses the FIFA game they are playing and looks at the nodding Marco, ‘You are the only person in the world who understands me so completely and so much better than I understand myself.’

 

‘I’ve told you that one of the reasons for me coming to Dortmund was to play with you, right?’ Mario nods as his hand sneaks to take some nachos from the bowl on the floor, between them, ‘Well, my _dream_ came true,’ Marco shrugs and chuckles at the chewing Mario. They both keep silent for a second before Marco restarts the game and surprises Mario with an attack. (None of them shares their joint _dream_ , though. Hoping that if it stays unspoken, it would also come true one day.)

 

 

 **_U_ ** _nbelehrbar_

Mario sticks his tongue out and puffs, kneeling down and concentrated on his shoelaces. Marco chuckles at the sight of Mario tying and untying them, not admitting he is doing it wrong.

 

‘Problem?’

 

‘They are new and I still can’t get it right, damn it,’ Mario frowns and purses his lips. Marco kneels down and his forehead slightly touches Mario’s. He instinctively reaches out for Mario’s trainers and softly pushes his hands away. Mario murmurs something under his nose.

 

‘Mario, you are too _stubborn_ , let me help you.’

 

Mario rolls his eyes and leans back. Marco bites his tongue, suppressing his laughter but the smirk reveals him.

 

‘Great, laugh at me!’ Mario shakes his head, ‘The baby who can’t even tie his laces!’

 

Marco’s smirk widens and claps his hands when finished. Places a quick kiss on Marco’s forehead before jumping up, ‘Right. But you are _my_ _stubborn baby_.’

 

(Mental note for Mario to always pretend he can’t tie his shoelaces from now on.)

 

 

 **_V_ ** _ielleicht_

Mario chuckles at the sight of frustrated Marco, gelling his hair for the _n_ -th time and puffing loudly.

 

‘It’s not funny. It doesn’t want to stand up properly and is an ugly mess,’ Marco takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to calm himself down.

 

‘Come here and give me the gel.’

 

Marco opens his eyes and sends a questioning look at Mario, who is now sitting on the bed with his legs crossed. Marco sighs and does as told. Mario bites his lower lip and squeezes the bottle, pouring the sticky liquid on his fingers. Lifts himself up on his knees and carefully runs his fingers through Marco’s blond locks.

 

‘Riiiiight...’

 

Marco looks up at Mario and instinctively opens his mouth when his eyes linger on Mario’s wet lips and his tongue, stuck out in deep concentration. Marco feels dizzy and his vision gets blurred, his cheeks start burning, and he _honestly_ doesn’t care about his fucking hair right now but just about the touch of Mario’s fingers through it. Marco half-closes his eyes and involuntarily purrs. Mario smirks, ‘ _Maybe_ you should hire me as your personal hairdresser, hm?’

 

Marco blushes and nods. (Later that day, Mario is the one blushing and nodding every time someone compliments Marco’s hair.)

 

 

 **_W_ ** _elt_

‘Marco, I appreciate you are not good at geography but, believe me, Munich is not another _world_ ,’ Mario sighs and taps his fingers on the keyboard. (He doesn’t see Marco’s fingers lingering on the laptop’s screen, caressing the image of Mario’s face.)

 

‘What’s the world to you, Mario?’

 

Mario is taken aback by the question and shrugs, ‘I don’t know... Munich, Dortmund, Germany... Europe. All the continents and the oceans... I don’t know, I am not good at geography either.’

 

They both smile and Marco clicks his tongue.

 

‘Do you know what the world is to me?’ silence, ‘ _You_.’

 

Mario wants to say that Marco is being a sap again but his greenest eyes remind him of the seas and the oceans and the grass and the trees and... And if that’s not the _world_ to Mario as well, then what is?

 

 

 **_X_ ** _-beliebig_

Every single song Marco listens to reminds him of Mario. And it’s not like he is such a fan of romantic ballads but he has missed the moment when Mario filled his phone with the most emotional songs ever. And it’s not like Marco wants to think about Mario, it’s just that his mind and heart betray him as he starts singing their choruses absentmindedly, imagining Mario’s face, Mario’s smile, Mario’s voice.

 

He can be _wherever_ , doing _whatever_ , being with _whomever_ , but as soon as one of those songs plays somewhere near, Marco switches off and starts daydreaming with a pathetic smile. (His teammates roll their eyes at that, calling it _Mario’s effect_. Marco pretends not to hear them.)

 

 

 **_Y_ ** _acht_

Marcel and Robin come back with loud shouts. Robin pinches Marco’s thigh before settling down on his lounge.

 

‘So tired after last night that you decided to screw your friends and sleep instead?’ Marco slowly opens his eyes at Robin’s unusually high-pitched voice, ‘I am offended.’

 

Marcel also dramatically places a hand on his chest before chuckling. Marco takes his sunglasses off and smirks.

 

‘The walk was so calm, though. For once, no fangirls running around us,’ Marcel takes in hand his drink and spreads himself on another lounge, ‘The joys of not being with Marco Reus.’

 

‘Fuck off,’ Marco smirks again and stands up to make himself a drink as well, ‘And I enjoyed a silent break from you two.’

 

‘Yes, we finally let you think of Mario without any trouble,’ Robin giggles and lays down on Marco’s lounge, ‘Did you call him?’

 

‘Why should I?’ Marco takes a sip from his cocktail, ‘I am in Miami with friends and-...’

 

‘...-and he is in Dubai with Ann-Kathrin,’ Marcel states smoothly, to which Robin smirks.

 

‘It’s late there,’ Marco says quietly, (un)successfully neglecting the second part of Marcel’s sentence.

 

‘As if you don’t spend nights talking to each other,’ Robin rolls his eyes. Marco shrugs and stares at his drink. His phone startles all three of them and Robin laughs, handing it to Marco with a wink. Marco blushes and takes the phone, walking away.

 

‘Hey!’

 

 _Haaaaaaappy Newwwww Yeaaaaaar!_ Mario shouts in his ear, and Marco laughs.

 

‘It’s still 2014 here, Sunny.’

 

 _It’s past midnight in Dubai, though._ Silence. Marco hears him shuffling and going to a quieter place. _Happy New Year, Marco. Stay healthy. Please, I beg you, stay healthy._

Marco laughs and Mario giggles, ‘I’ll try to. And you stay the same positive sunshine you are.’

 

_For you, I’ll try. I wish you were here._

‘You have your company.’

 

_So do you, on that yacht, sunbathing._

‘You saw the pictures?’

 

 _Well, maybe I stalk you on the internet every now and then, don’t blame me._ They both chuckle. _But I really wish we were together now._

‘So do I, Sunny. For next New Year’s Eve we can try booking our own yacht, right?’ Mario nods, although Marco can’t see him, ‘Thank you for calling.’

 

_Thank you for answering._

An hour later he just gives up and it’s Marco who is calling, Mario who is answering. And they spend together the first three hours of 2015.

 

 

 **_Z_ ** _wei_

Mario starts snoring in Marco’s ear. Marco smiles and quietly hangs up, putting the phone away before falling asleep himself.

 

Mario dreams of the pitch, of the sun, of the ball, of Marco, of Marco, of _Marco_ – and smiles in his sleep. He sees the _two_ of them, together – _always together_ – running next to each other, joking, laughing, playing. He sees Marco’s face close to his own, he feels Marco’s breath on his own face, takes in his lungs Marco’s smell, tastes Marco’s lips on his own...

 

Mario’s eyes snap open at the first sunrays coming through the window. Ann-Kathrin is in the bathroom, singing a catchy song from the party last night. Mario sighs, running his fingers through his hair. His phone vibrates on the nightstand.

 

_Yesterday I spent the entire day thinking of my most favourite word in German._

Mario chuckles at Mario’s text and types quickly, _? and what’s the conclusion ??_

_I am an idiot. It’s so fucking simple. Just two letters._

_Really?_ Mario smiles, _Enlighten me._

Marco takes a deep breath and bites his lips.

_DU._

 

(Mario has long ago figured out this was his favourite word too.)


End file.
